


what about the kid?

by orphan_account



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, SOFT GAYS, idk what else to say but i love the get down and i'm sad, part 2 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10594281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Thor looked at Dizzee, receiving a nod in response, but Shao noticed his hesitance. “We’re setting ourselves free.” He said matter-of-factly.That made Shao pause. “The fuck does that mean?”





	

When Shao went looking for Dizzee, he expected to find him in a lot of predicaments — another run in with the cops, on a graffiti escapade, even in some whack underground party no one had ever heard of. What he didn’t expect though, was to find Dizzee in some abandoned Chelsea Pier building, covered from head to toe in a multitude of different paints, chanting foreign phrases and moving around like a mythical tribe member, but of course, that’s what he found.

He took a step toward Dizzee, and it was then that he noticed another person; he remembered what Boo said about a long-haired pretty white boy with nice eyes — now that he’d seen him, he could attest to that, at least somewhat, not that he would ever tell anyone.

Once Dizzee noticed Shao’s presence, he stopped mid-chant, lowering his arms as he stared at Shao. “Sh-”

“Holy shit, are you _the_ Shaolin Fantastic?” A voice cut Dizzee off, and Shao assumed it belonged to the white boy. He got up from his seat on a nearby table and it looked like he had a fair amount of paint on him as well.

Instinctively, Shao took a step back, but the white man knew not of personal space, and that space was soon closed by the extension of a pasty hand, decorated with rings that were probably worth more than Shao’s life, begging for a handshake. “I’m Thor,” he breathed, and Shao looked at Dizzee over Thor’s shoulder, asking the silent question: _Who the fuck is this and why is he trying to talk to me?_

Dizzee took a few strides toward them, placing a hand on Thor’s shoulder to guide him away from Shao. “Shao, this is Thor. He’s my…” He paused as he glanced at Thor, and Shao waited for him to continue with only mild discomfort. “… Friend.”

Shao looked between them skeptically. “Mhm. So, uh, what the fuck is going on here?” He gestured broadly, though they probably knew what he was referring to.

Thor looked at Dizzee, receiving a nod in response, but Shao noticed his hesitance. “We’re setting ourselves free.” He said matter-of-factly.

That made Shao pause. “The fuck does that mean?”

He eyed Dizzee, but he didn’t look like he was about to answer any questions. Again, Thor approached Shao, but this time he didn’t let him come closer than a foot. “Just chill. Come on, we’ll show you.”

Dizzee nodded with confidence this time, but his voice sounded rather hoarse as he said, “Right. We’ll show you.”

Reluctantly, Shao followed Thor and Dizzee further into the building, where the lights were brighter and the lines of the murals were sharper and darker, like a Wassily Kandinsky painting had materialized on the walls in a matter of minutes.

Dizzee picked up a paintbrush, dipping it in one of the many buckets lying around on the floor. He beckoned to Thor, who looked more than happy to oblige. Dizzee lifted his hand, as if he was going to paint Thor’s face, but he stopped, his hand drifting in the air between them.

Shao watched as Thor whispered something to Dizzee; he couldn’t tell exactly what was said, but he could vaguely make out a balmy “It’s okay, don’t worry,” amidst the mumbling.

Whatever the white boy said must’ve convinced Dizzee to continue, because he pressed the tip of the paintbrush to Thor’s face only a moment after. Shao was starting to get annoyed, not knowing what the fuck they were doing, but the fact that he even wanted to know bothered him more.

After Thor and Dizzee shared a few giggles together in solitude — they were far enough away from Shao for it to be considered as such — Dizzee seemed to remember that Shao was there, and he practically ran over to him. He held out the paintbrush and said, damn near breathless, “Here, Shao, take this. Set yourself free.”

Those three words triggered something in Shao, but he couldn’t quite place it, so instead of trying to figure it out he said, “Yo, you’re fucking crazy, man. I’m not gonna paint on some dude’s face. That’s fucking stupid.”

He didn’t know what that whole ‘set yourself free’ shit was about, but he doubted some senseless strokes of a wet paintbrush would do him any good.

Dizzee’s smile faded away and his eyebrows drew together in an expression so pitiful Shao started to feel a little guilty.

With an emphatic sigh, Shao grabbed the paintbrush and stood up, glancing at both Dizzee and Thor before rolling his eyes. “So are y’all gonna tell me what I gotta do?”

Dizzee and Thor exchanged a look and started to laugh — loud and disruptive laughter that was probably loud enough to wake everyone on this block and the next — but Shao wasn’t laughing.

They stopped laughing immediately once they noticed Shao didn’t think their joke was funny, and Dizzee took Shao’s hand in his, raising it to face level. “Just paint.” When Shao didn’t react, Dizzee continued. “Pretend this brush is a record, and you’re trying to find the get down part. Imagine that.”

Shao was wary of this whole situation, not to mention the physical intimacy, but nevertheless, he was willing to at least try, just to _see_ if it did anything.

With that in mind, Shao lifted the brush so it was pressed against Thor’s cheek, and he started to trace the outline of a swirl he saw in his mind — like an imagined hunt for the get down part on an equally imaginary record.

Thor was standing deathly still as he painted, his eyes lingering on Shao’s — surprisingly steady — hand.

Dizzee was watching with a proud smile on his face, but Shao couldn’t bring himself to smile back. He was focused, too focused to pay attention to Dizzee, who was his only distraction right now.

Once the spiral was complete, Shao let his hand drop. He took a moment to think before he spoke. “This the gayest fucking thing I ever done.”

“You just set yourself free, Shao!” Dizzee exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. He had a shit-eating grin on his face when he placed a hand on Shao’s shoulder. “Embrace it.”

There were those stupid words again.

“One more thing.” Dizzee plucked the paintbrush out of Shao’s hand, spinning around before his gaze landed on an unopened bucket of paint in the corner. He crossed the length of the building to get to it, wrenching it open with a screwdriver, making a gleeful sound as the lid popped up. Thor watched him like he was a magical, otherworldly being, like he was an alien from space, and Shao couldn’t help but envy what they had going on — whatever that was.

Dizzee returned with a bucket of matte gold paint, laughing triumphantly as he plunged the paintbrush into the glossy acrylic. Shao watched him warily, and he wanted to protest or end this charade, but something told him to keep his mouth shut and wait.

So he waited.

Thor smiled reassuringly at Dizzee as he moved toward Shao, placing a hand under his chin and tilting his head back in one smooth motion. Shao was tempted to slap Dizzee’s hand away, but then he started to paint, and all he could think about was how beautifully and precisely he painted, even if it was just one big splotch on Shao’s cheek.

When Dizzee was finished painting, he directed Shao to a mirror, where he showed him the shapeless silhouette of gold on his face. “What do you think?” He watched Shao’s face expectantly, likely hoping for it to express something other than discontent.

Shao thought about it for a moment as his eyes trailed down the length of the blob. “Yeah.” He said, more to himself than Dizzee. “Yeah, I like it.” He repeated, louder this time.

Dizzee smiled like he just won a prize. “I knew you would love it.”

Thor was smiling too, and soon even Shao began to smile.

Those smiles turned into laughter, followed by the aching desire to paint, and time got away from Shao more than he would’ve liked.

It wasn’t until after Shao had painted a mural the size of a lion and added more stripes and spots and patches of color to Dizzee and Thor’s faces that he remembered why he was there in the first place.

“Shit… Dizzee, we gotta go.” Shao jumped up, dropping the paintbrush and picking up his discarded jacket, which was now splattered with paint.

Dizzee stood, helping Thor up as well. They smiled at each other and Shao rolled his eyes. He was about to speak again, but Dizzee stunned him into silence by planting a kiss on Thor’s forehead.

Shao stopped, Dizzee stopped, and Thor was probably unaware of just how high the tensions were, but Shao ignored it, even as Dizzee said his name, even as he tried to explain. He didn’t care, it wasn’t his business. None of this should’ve even happened.

He rubbed at his temples, frustrated and not willing to deal with this. “Can I just… get this shit off?” Shao pointed at the paint on his face and his arms and his neck and even his jacket, though he knew that would have to be dealt with later.

Dizzee’s expression fell flat as he gestured toward a staircase. “Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

Shao made it downstairs before Dizzee, so he lit a cigarette to pass the time. He tried not to think about the implications of what just went down, but curiosity was notorious for killing the cat, and it was hard to just ignore.

He took a drag on the cigarette and considered what he should say. He held nothing against Dizzee, regardless of… whatever he was feeling.

The sound of a door closing and feet on flimsy metal alerted Shao of Dizzee’s presence and he moved his bike forward to intercept his arrival, climbing onto it in the same motion.

He waited until Dizzee came down the stairs to start talking. “Dizz,” he started, “You know there’s a reason I go by Shaolin Fantastic, right?” He handed Dizzee the cigarette as he settled onto the back of the motorcycle.

“Because you’re a superhero?” Dizzee asked, tentatively, like a naïve child who wanted to believe there were people out there who could save him — Shao could relate to that, even though he had to learn the hard way that there weren’t, that not even he could save himself sometimes.

“Because people don’t need to know everything about me.” Shao said, glancing back at Dizzee, who turned away, avoiding eye contact. He paused as he grabbed the red Kevlar helmet off of the handlebar, then, he lightly hit Dizzee on the arm to get his attention — his way of saying it’d be alright. “Don’t worry. I got you, my alien brother.”

Dizzee didn’t respond, but Shao knew he understood. He didn’t press him for more because he understood too, and nothing else had to be said.

Shao revved the motorcycle’s engine and had to yell to be heard over it when he said, “Now let’s get our get down brothers!”

He just hoped that minor setback didn’t end up making them _too_ late.


End file.
